


Love is Like Falling and Falling is Like This

by indevan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 22:24:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: He wakes up at night, stomach clenched, when he knows Trunks is off kissing other boys.  But it’s Goten’s problem, not Trunks’s, so he keeps it to himself.  He doesn’t want to ruin what they have.  This inexorable closeness.  The magnetic pull





	Love is Like Falling and Falling is Like This

**Author's Note:**

> this is technically a bit of canon divergence since it's one of my au's where raditz lives but not enough for me to warrant tagging for it lmao

He waits for him at the party, because he never quite fits in with his classmates. Maybe it’s growing up so far out of the way up in the mountains or maybe it’s because he’s part alien, but he’s always felt on the outside of people’s jokes. Trunks says he feels it, too. Says they only invite him because he’s rich and they think any quirks he has are ironic and, thus, cool. Goten comes because that’s how it’s always been. Like Trunks, like Goten. It used to drive his mother up a wall. “If Trunks jumped off a bridge, would you?” she’d asked in moments of peak exasperation.

He’s never understood the question because they can both fly. Of course. He’d follow Trunks to Hell.

Maybe that’s a bad example.

He’s heard Hell isn’t too bad.

He’s waiting for Trunks at the party because he’ll always wait for Trunks. He isn’t sure when friendship turned to falling, but that’s how it is when you’re hopelessly devoted. It hurts, sometimes, the longing.

He wakes up at night, stomach clenched, when he knows Trunks is off kissing other boys. But it’s Goten’s problem, not Trunks’s, so he keeps it to himself. He doesn’t want to ruin what they have. This inexorable closeness. The magnetic pull.

“It’s a Saiyan thing,” his uncle says, because he’s the authority Goten has on Saiyan culture since Vegeta barely talks about it. “We don’t care until we find the one we’re meant to be with. Then it’s just them. Only them.”

That sucks for him, he thinks, because if Trunks is the one he’s meant for, he doesn’t see it that way. Soulmate stuff is rough, he thinks, and bullshit. What if who you’re meant for is meant for someone else? Maybe his uncle was romanticizing it even if he didn’t mean to. And it worked out for him. Worked out for Gohan, his dad, every other Saiyan but him.

Soulmate stuff sucks.

Goten’s never understood the meaning of soulmates, anyway. When he was little, he thought it was a beautiful thing. Your two souls searching for one another and finding one. He pictured them as different colored beams of light meeting before you even knew the person. Which is horseshit and probably says a lot about what an idealistic kid he was.

But now he stands outside the party, still feeling the bass from the stereo inside through the concrete of the sidewalk. Feeling it vibrate through the soles of his sneakers. His keen ears pick up the words of the song, even if it’s drowned beneath the bass. He could go back in but Saiyan senses are too strong. Sweat, deodorant, alcohol, pot smoke, the lights, and the music. It’s too much. But he’s waiting for Trunks to finish up with whatever guy he’s hooking up with. Whatever boy whose heart he’s going to break.

Goten’s own heart thuds in his chest. It isn’t broken but it isn’t whole. But it’s his problem. He won’t bother anyone else with it. He doesn’t think anyone’s noticed his feelings for Trunks. They haven’t changed how they behaved. Haven’t spent less time together except when Trunks has a boyfriend and, even then, he’ll drag Goten along with them when they “hang out,” so he has an excuse to say it isn’t a date when the guy gets clingy. He says all the guys get clingy, but Goten thinks they just want his attention.

Trunks is beautiful, magnetic. His purple hair falling in his sharp blue eyes that watch everything. Arched, thick brows. Full, pouting mouth. He’s good-looking and rich and so everyone can overlook his idiosyncrasies. Which is cowardly of them, he thinks, because whatever weirdness they read that he gets from one or both of his parents makes Trunks even better. In his opinion.

He knows he has it bad, but it’s mangable. Things aren’t different. He’ll wait out here for him and they’ll go back to his room at Capsule Corp and they’ll crack each other up until they both fall asleep.

He could go in, but he doesn’t. It’s nice out and.

He isn’t innocent.

He’s fallen for Trunks but he’s looked at others. Made out with people at parties to prove he isn’t an outsider. He isn’t a hick from Mount Paozu. Girls think he’s cute and boys who can’t get Trunks settle for him as the next best thing. That should offend him more than it does.

Trunks emerges, finally, lips wet and bruised-looking from kissing.

“Hey, you waited.”

He smiles, slow and easy, and Goten’s heart lurches.

“Of course.”

He’ll always wait for him. But he doesn’t say that. It’s too dangerous and, anyway, Trunks would make fun of him for being so sappy.

“Sorry I took so long, then.” He looks back towards the door and grimaces. “Really sorry.”

No one chases after him, no one opens the door to beg him to come back.

No one’s noticed that Goten isn’t there.

It doesn’t bother him. Who he wants to notice him is right there.

“Should we fly back?”

Trunks shakes his head. “Let’s walk. It’s nice out.”

The streets are empty this late. They move past parked cars, slick in the night. Let the bass from the party fade away. Goten doesn’t know if it’s just his ears or if it really is that loud. If one of the neighbors will call the police or tell the kid’s parents. Once, they snuck out to a party where the cops were called. Krillin had been one of them and gave them a personal escort home. Bulma hadn’t cared but his own mother had been under the impression that he was just sleeping over Trunks’s house and having him use his genius to help Goten with his homework.

“Who was he?” Goten asks.

“Who?”

“The guy you were with.”

“Oh.”

Trunks shrugs and flicks his gaze to a gap between houses. It’s still mostly dirt but, in the dark, Goten can see the skeletal structure of a house being built. He wonders why Trunks is staring until he sees the shining eyes of a raccoon watching them, probably wondering why their eyes glow, too.

“He didn’t go to our school.”

He doesn’t say his name, might not know it. Trunks is a heartbreaker. That’s what people call him.

“Where’d you go?”

“Outside. It was too much in there.”

“It is. I hate these parties.”

Goten agrees, but. There isn’t anything else to do. Not for fun, anyway. Training gets old when they stop surprising each other and they aren’t like their dads. They can’t just do it all the time without getting bored.

“It’s still early,” Goten says. “When we get back, we can watch a movie.”

Those are the dangerous times. Dark rooms, the glow of the television, Trunks so close. So close. But they’ve always been about casual touches and hanging off of each other. It never meant anything until it did.

“Ooh, yeah.”

“No horror.”

Trunks’s eyes widen. He stops under a streetlight, the amber light carving shadows in his face that make him unfairly gorgeous.

“What?” he asks, incredulous.

“I don’t like it.”

The blood, the music, the scares. He hates it.

“C’mon. This one’s great. You’ll like it.”

Trunks always says that when he wants Goten to do something he doesn’t want to do. “You’ll like it.” It’s a lie, usually. But sometimes he really does.

“What is it?”

“It’s old, but it’s about this guy that kills you in your dreams.”

Goten shakes his head. “Hell no. I’m out.”

He still has nightmares about Majin Buu, not the good one he sees every Sunday when they go for dinner at Gohan’s. The other one. Watching him kill his mother. Again and again.

“It’s really good.”

“No.”

“C’mon. Scaredy cat.” Trunks crouches a little and wiggles his fingers. “One, two, Freddy’s comin’ for you…”

Goten shudders and begins walking again. It must be from the movie, the way Trunks says it in a singsong voice. He’s already getting the creeps.

“Three, four, better lock your door…”

Trunks is behind him, a laugh chasing his words.

“Trunks, cut it out.”

At times like this, it’s easier to deal with his feelings. When Trunks is being insufferable, he can see him as his best friend and not any of this crappy soulmate stuff.

He comes up behind him and grabs him around the middle. Goten jerks.

“Trunks!”

He laughs. Doesn’t let go. Goten feels the back of his neck begin to heat up. Gets prickly up and down his arms.

“I’ll hold you during the scary parts,” he says.

The suggestion hangs there and Goten’s heart begins to thud. He doesn’t believe he’s being real. He’s messing with him.

“Shut up,” he says, wiggling out of his embrace.

Undeterred, Trunks keeps skipping. Keeps swinging his arms. Keeps singing that damn song.

“Stop it, Trunks. Really.”

Suddenly it’s as if he can no longer see well in the dark. The trees seem curved, insidious. The houses blank, gaping maws, even the ones that still have lights on. The flickering of televisions behind curtains. Leaves skitter on the ground and he nearly jumps.

“You’re really scared? You were waiting all alone outside for so long. What’s the difference now?”

They’re almost out of the neighborhood and to West City proper. The little suburbs here barely feel like anything next to the metropolis a few avenues down.

“When I was waiting outside there wasn’t an asshole singing a nursery rhyme from a horror movie!”

“It’s really not that scary. It’s kind of hokey, really. It’s super old.”

Trunks is backpedaling the way he does when he knows Goten is really bothered. To make him feel better. It’s touching, because he’s normally so stubborn that he never backs down.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He can already hear the traffic of the city. It really isn’t that late but the neighborhood was already asleep. Except for the house pumping bass and filmed to the brim with drunken teenagers.

“I meant it, you know.”

They’ve walked to a street corner that actually has a light and Trunks actually stops for once. He walks whenever he wants. Everyone in West City does. Goten hates it. He’s afraid a car’s going to hit him and he’s going to have to explain to someone why the car is damaged and not him.

“Meant what?”

He thinks he means the movie and it’s apparent hokiness. The light changes and they walk across the street, the headlights of a car making their shadows stretch and warp.

“About holding you if you got scared.”

“Thanks.” Goten sneers at him and Trunks mimics the expression.

They keep walking, past darkened storefronts and some still blazing with light. Trunks stops at one with a flashing neon sign that reads: PARKING IN THE BACK.

“Oh, man. I want that for my room. Let guys know what’s up.” He laughs and tries to get the whole sign with him in a selfie on his phone.

Goten thinks he’s being ridiculous so he doesn’t offer to take it for him. Even his devotion has its limits.

At the next crosswalk, the hand is flashing and counting down. Trunks steps out onto the road before it hits one and leisurely strolls across the road. Goten hurries to catch up with him, trying to ignore the way cars honk at them.

“Really, though,” he says once they cross.

He doesn’t know what he means.

“Huh?”

“I’ll hold you any time.”

He’s having him on again and Goten’s getting tired. Maybe they should have flown or used the speeder that Trunks keeps in a capsule in his pocket. But he knows it isn’t the walk tiring him.

“Come off it.”

They turn right, cut towards the rich part of town. The penthouses, the fancy stores, and Capsule Corp. The sprawling compound that dominates a good chunk of the upper side of West City.

“Goten.”

They’re nearly to the park, which means only five more blocks until they hit the fringe of Capsule Corp’s property.

“What?”

He turns and Trunks isn’t moving.

“Were you jealous?”

“Of what?”

“The guy. From the other school.”

He doesn’t think Trunks has seen through to know he’s fallen for him. He figures he means that he’s jealous that Trunks got action with someone outside their immediate friend’s group while Goten waited for him outside. It isn’t that simple.

“No.”

It’s easy to say, because it’s what he thinks Trunks means. He _ was _ jealous but of this nameless, faceless boy.

“Damn.”

They circumvent the park, because it’s easier.

“Goten.”

Another stop. Goten stares at the orange hand and then back at Trunks, the afterimage of the hand flashing on his face.

“What?”

He feels like he’s in a comedy bit.

“Can you _ please _ get what I’m saying?”

He’s looking put out and Goten doesn’t want to deal with it right now, because being in love sometimes sucks a whole lot. Especially when the object of your affection is being annoying as hell.

“What are you saying?”

Trunks throws his arms out.

“Uh, that I wanna hold you while we watch a movie and that I made out with a dude to make you jealous.”

The light changes. Neither of them move.

“What?”

This is what happens when friendship turns to falling. Goten’s heart thuds in his chest. The little walking man beckons him, but he doesn’t move. The light flashes and begins to count down from thirty. It’s a long light at the busy intersection. Cars hate being stuck here.

“Ugh. Never mind.”

Trunks walks out into the crosswalk and he walks behind him, trying to roll over what he was saying in his head.

“Trunks. Do you…” He isn’t sure how to word it.

The hand reappears and he thinks, if this were a movie, that might mean something. _ Stop. _ It says. Stop, Goten. He doesn’t listen.

“Like me?”

Trunks laughs. Begins walking again.

“Like you?” he says. “No.”

His heart plummets. So he was fucking with him. Love is cruel. This isn’t like what his uncle said. Even if his soul searched for Trunks and found him, it isn’t returned.

“I like horror movies. I like beef yakiniku. I like training. I like watching those competition cooking shows with my mom. What I feel for you isn’t _ like.” _

In the distance, he can see the crest of the dome that makes up the main building of Capsule Corp. Goten focuses on it, because his mind doesn’t want to process what he’s hearing.

“Did you ever hear about that Saiyan thing? About finding, like, The One?”

Goten nods, not trusting his voice.

“My dad told me, once. It’s so hard getting Saiyan stuff out of him, but when he told me. I knew. That’s what it’s like with you.”

“Trunks, I…”

They stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Behind them is a place that sells bagels. The lights are off except for a neon bagel flashing red in the window, pulsing on them.

“I think that, too,” he says.

And it isn’t right. It isn’t what he’s been feeling. What he thought about kids, about souls like ki. Like beautiful bursts of light finding each other. About the falling. About everything. But he’s never been good with words like that. But Trunks gets it because he gets him, because he smiles.

“Okay, then. Good. Cool.”

He hooks an arm around Goten’s neck and pulls him close, but it’s different this time. A different sort of holding.

“Now we definitely get to watch my movie so I can hold you when you’re scared.”

“I’m still not watching that movie.”

“Fine, we don’t have to watch it. It can be background noise while we make out.”

Goten rolls his eyes. Things haven’t changed, but they have. Maybe that’s for the best.

“Haven’t you had enough of that tonight?”

“Nope. Now that I’m done kissing other boys, I’ve got to make up for lost time kissing you.”

Trunks kisses the corner of his mouth and grins widely. Wickedly. Goten feels a surge of warmth in his chest. He snakes out his arm to hold him back as they walk to the next crosswalk.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: vertigoats  
twitter: smugsnail/smugsnailcos


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